


Dare You To Move

by BrandenJacob



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Abusive Parents, Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Chaptered, Cigarettes, College, Divorce, Drug Use, Eventual Smut, Harvard University, Homophobia, Implied/Referenced Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Implied/Referenced Homophobia, Internship, Law School, M/M, Marijuana, Moving, Musician Harry, Parental Abuse, Partying, Poor Louis, Poor Louis Tomlinson, Rehabilitation, Rich Harry, Rich Harry Styles, University, University Student Harry Styles, University Student Louis, alcohol use
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-05-09
Updated: 2019-12-16
Packaged: 2020-02-28 22:14:11
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 9,206
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18765313
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BrandenJacob/pseuds/BrandenJacob
Summary: Harry Styles and Louis Tomlinson were about as different as two people could possibly be. Harry had everything Louis wanted, and Louis didn't really have anything at all. The only thing that they really had in common is that there's nothing more important to them than following their dreams.They had no idea it would lead them straight to each other.





	1. 01.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey! This is my first fic in a while and it may seem like it's off to a slow start but I have big plans for it. Regular updates. Feel free to follow me on Twitter @2heartsstyles

"Harry!" The call came full-throated from downstairs and Harry's eyes shot open. He hadn't meant to doze off. The curly-haired boy yawned as he roused from bed, rubbing his flushed face with a sniffle. He sat up and planted his feet on the floor next to the bed and smoothed his hands down his trousers. The plush bed had just held him too perfectly even though it felt foreign now. It was sat in the guest room that used to be his own. He straightened up the floral throw pillows a bit and stood up. He could smell the food already, and it definitely woke his stomach up.

 

"Coming father!" he replied hoarsely, and walked over to the floor-length mirror to straighten his white button up shirt and brown tie, smoothing his sweaty hands down his brown slacks once more, frowning slightly as he looked himself over. He knew he looked disheveled, but between orientation that morning and finishing up packing his suitcases, he was exhausted. He sighed and blinked slowly, trying to force the sleep out of his eyes before he headed downstairs to their dining hall. His stepfather still had his suit on and was sat beside the head of the table, where his mother sat in a tan dress with a glass of dark red wine in her thin and slightly trembling hand. Harry's smile was tight as he took his own seat opposite his father.

 

"Straighten your tie," his father chided quietly as he tucked a napkin into his collar. Harry didn't meet his eyes, concentrating on holding in the impending sigh in his lungs as he readjusted it again and put it precisely back as it was, with no comment from the man across from him.

 

"Looks lovely, mum, thank you," he said quietly and took a sip of his ice water, even the rattling of the ice sounded like thunder in the tense silence of the house.

 

"Wanted to make your favorite before you run off again," she replied quietly as she picked up her fork to start slowly eating a few of her green beans. There was a smile on her face. It was meant to be a joke but it made Harry's sternum burn. There was just too much truth in it. He laughed a little with her anyway, nodding.

 

"I really appreciate it, I always miss your cooking when I'm at school," he told her, cutting a bite of his chicken, savoring it. The parmesan crust was perfect. "Can never wait to get home," he added, which was a bit of an exaggeration for her benefit. Ever since he had started Uni, his parents had been steadily upgrading the house. It seemed like there was always one more room out of place when he came back on breaks leaving him with the ever increasing sensation of being a stranger there.

 

"How was orientation?" his father asked him as he ate. Harry shrugged one shoulder.

 

"Normal, really. Picked up my schedule, chatted to a few people. I didn't want to stay too long because I wanted to spend as much time home as I could," he said. "Crazy to drive so far just to pick up some paperwork, it could have waited." His father cleared his throat at that.

 

"It's best to be prepared," he said simply.

 

"Classes hardly start for a week, I could have managed."

 

"Well, I wanted to see your schedule anyway," Robin muttered. Harry looked up at him.

 

"It's normal," he replied, tacking in a "dad" on the end with a smile. Robin smiled a bit when Harry added in the address. He'd been raising him for the past nine years, but it always warmed his chest when Harry called him dad, as hard as everything had been for the boy, he felt good that he was there to raise him right.

 

"Well, I'd like to see it," he reiterated.

 

"I think it's upstairs…" he mumbled and hid behind another bite of food, even though he could literally feel the edge of the folded up sheet of paper in the pocket of his trousers. It felt like it was cutting his skin now. "Wouldn't want to interrupt this lovely meal mum has made." Robin's brows rose.

 

"I didn't see it on the end table when you were taking your little nap, I looked for it," he said flatly. Harry shrugged and patted his thighs to pretend that he was looking for it.

 

"Oh, mustn't have taken it out of my pocket, sorry," he said and eased it out, unfolding it before passing it across to him. He pushed his glasses up his nose and glanced over it.

 

"Fundamental Psychology?" he asked. Harry nodded.

 

"It's supposed to help me better analyze the reasoning behind different market trends. If you know behavior, you can better predict patterns and put yourself ahead of the curve," he explained, parroting back what the academic advisor had told him during selections. That seemed to satisfy Robin.

 

"Style and Meaning of Musical Voice?" he scoffed, making a face. Harry felt his chest seize up.

 

"I needed an elective," he mumbled.

 

"You're a business major, Harry, Christ," he went on, and Harry tried to shrug but his shoulders felt locked in place.

 

"Brenda said that-"

 

"Ms. Callahan," he corrected, looking amused at watching him squirm.

 

"Ms. Callahan said that diversity in electives would look good on a resume in the future. She told me that it shows off that I have intellectual pursuits that I am passionate about, which is attractive to potential employers," he lied. Robin pursed his lips and folded it back.

 

"I don't mind speaking with her," he offered as he passed the paper over to Harry. He took it with a nervous hand and stuffed it away wishing that he could make it disappear.

 

"It'll be such an easy credit, father, I don't think you should bother with it. It will bring my averages up because of that maths course I struggled with," he replied, trying not to talk too fast. He always talked too fast when he got nervous. Robin hummed.

 

"Well, if it's as rubbish as it sounds, just let me know and we can sort it out," he said. Harry gave him another tight smile. "Bound to be some other fruits in there.."

 

"Robin," Anne murmured. "Don't be rude." Her words made him sigh, and he gave Harry a just-us-guys smirk, and he forced one in return as if the snide comment wasn't directed at him in the first place.

 

"'S alright, mum," he said smoothly. She sipped on her wine and it seemed to steady her. "Shame Gemma couldn't make it home," he changed the subject, always defaulting to his sister when things got tense between them. She worked as an editor for a pretty popular magazine, and was always jetting off for work. "Where is she this week? New York, right?"

 

"Yes, lovey, New York City. She said she's bringing you back a few things," Anne replied. Harry smiled genuinely and nodded.

 

"Lovely of her then," he replied. The conversation lulled and he just ate, averting the eyes of his parents. Robin finished first and pushed his plate away from him, leaning back in his seat and sipping from his own wine glass.

 

"Could've had some wine, Harry," he murmured. Harry finally looked up and shook his head a little.

 

"Have to get up too early, you know how I am," he replied, chuckling at himself. Robin cleared his throat as his glass hit the table.

 

"I have some news for you," he said, which made Harry tense up all over again.

 

"Good, I hope?" he replied.

 

"Well," he said and pulled an envelope from his inner coat pocket and placed it down on the table. It was hand addressed to 'Mr. H Styles.' He picked it up and slid a finger beneath the flap and ran it across, it opened smoothly. He pulled out the letter, and as soon as he folded it down, a plane ticket slipped out. It was dated nearly a year forward, the destination was the Haneda Airport in Ota, Tokyo, Japan.

 

"What is this?" he asked quickly as he read over the ticket, Robin was practically frozen in a proud smirk. Harry folded up the top half of the letter to straighten the paper out and read over the words.

 

"Out loud, lovey," Anne encouraged softly. Harry glanced between them.

 

"It is with great joy we invite you to Nomura Research Institute to partake in a once in a lifetime opportunity," he read. "You have been invited to work alongside some of our most esteemed experts in Management Consulting, as a paid understudy to our program. This is due in part to your incredible academic initiative, as well as the recommendation of a trusted partner, Robin Twist. The program will see to it that you are compensated for your time and receive further recommendation from our associates for any career path you decide to embark on in the future," he went on, reading the rest in his head. His heart was pounding in his chest, and all that pressure bubbled over into a nervous grin that covered his face. "Father…" he murmured. Robin had a smug look on his face. Harry folded the letter back and stared at the plane ticket some more before tucking it away. He looked up at Robin, with no words. The man was just smiling at him.

 

"Honey, that's wonderful," Anne enthused and touched his arm. His smile faltered.

 

"Yeah… it is… God.." he stammered.

 

"Well?" Robin said expectantly.

 

"Thank you," Harry replied. "Thank you. I honestly can't believe that you managed this… An internship at such a large company like that… imagine how good that is going to look on a resume…" he said, unsure of what to say to make himself sound happy. It was a huge opportunity.

 

"You're welcome, Harry." Harry swallowed thickly and just looked down. "Just make sure you stay on top of your game this year, keep yourself focused, get those grades up."

 

"Of course," he said.

 

"Maybe find yourself a nice girl to settle down with," he added. Harry bit his lips together. "I don't think they enjoy that kind of funny business in Japan, I wouldn't really know."

 

"I, um," he licked his lips. "I'll try." Robin looked satisfied enough with his answer and got up to clear away their empty plates. Harry took his glass and his letter as he stood up, pressing a kiss to Anne's forehead before tiptoeing up the stairs before Robin had a chance to come back. He placed the envelope and his class schedule on the mother of pearl dresser, and pulled a bottle of scotch from the bottom drawer where he kept it hidden. He sat at the edge of the bed and stared at the paper, bottle on the flowery duvet cover beside him. He pulled out his cell phone to text his best friend.

 

'Niall, do you have my guitar?' he typed and hit the green 'Send' key. Niall replied with a photo of it propped up beside his luggage, and it made Harry smile. 'Thanks mate x.'

 

'How are you?' Niall asked him. Harry kicked his shoes off and finally loosened his tie before slipping it off.

 

'Robin's got me an internship in Japan after this school year is out…' he answered, and got up to change into some pajamas. His phone pinged on the bed and he looked over.

 

'What are you going to do?' Niall asked him. Harry tapped out the three letters that were echoing through his head with every beat of his heavy heart, 'Idk'. He flopped down on the bed and stared up at the soft pink ceiling, eyes following the gold filigree detail on the fan as it spun. He twisted the lid off the scotch and sipped it straight, the taste of it setting his throat on fire as it went down, backdraft igniting his chest and stomach, making his face go sour. The more he sipped and the later it got, the more aware he was of the silence in the house. He couldn't hear the televisions running, just faint music coming from the study. Around midnight, he heard the wine cabinet creak open.

 

"Are you fucking kidding?" Robin said into the bleakness, the music stopping abruptly. He stumbled to put the bottle of scotch back into the bottom drawer, and he could hear them beginning to argue downstairs. He eased up under the covers and pulled the small chain on the bedside lamp, enveloping him in the comfort of the dark. Harry shut his eyes, a drunk little smile creeping over his flushed face knowing that the day was finally over. He was so excited to be leaving in the morning.


	2. 02.

Louis sighed and looked out at the street in front of his house; he could feel the concrete of his front steps through his grey joggers on the back of his thighs. He took a cigarette from the pack beside him and tilted his head to light it before sitting them back down. He sucked the smoke in slowly, shutting his eyes. He could hear the TV running through the thin door, and he tried to push it out of his mind and relax. By his second drag, he heard the door start to squeak and then pull open. He swallowed thickly and looked up to see his mother coming out. Johannah took a seat beside him and pulled the oversized t-shirt she had on down over her knees and reached for his cigarettes to take one. He didn't say anything.

 

"What are you hiding out here for?" she asked him softly as if their argument just an hour ago was a thing of the past. He sighed smoke out through his nose and shook his head. 

 

"'M not hiding," he reasoned, but he wouldn't look at her. She huffed at him as she lit up. 

 

"I'm not telling you not to go. I'm just saying that we could use the check a lot more around the house, Louis. I don't understand sinking so much money into a degree that you're not even going to finish," she said. He felt his sternum get hot with anger. "You always do this."

 

"For fuck's sake," he scoffed. "I changed my mind about what I wanted to do with my life a few times when I was a teenager, mum. This isn't the same at all, and I don't understand how you want to sit here and try to guilt me out of my student loans. Is that really what we've come to?"

 

"You know he sends less when you aren't around…" she said meekly. 

 

"Because there are fewer mouths to feed when school is in, it's shitty, but the logic is there. I can't believe you're trying to take away the one shot I have at being more than… this," he said and gestured widely at the house behind them and the yard before them. It was yellowy, mostly dirt, with random toys scattered about. They had faded from the sun and were riddled with cracks. 

 

"So you're ashamed of the rest of us?" she asked. He finally looked at her, focusing on her eyes because behind his there was only the white heat of his thoughts. 

 

"I'm not fucking ashamed, but that doesn't mean I don't think I deserve better. You do what you can for us, and I have always respected you for that. I love you, I love the kids, but I'm not going to spend the rest of my life poor just to save your feelings. Fuck me, right?" he said bitterly, flicking his burnt out cigarette across the yard. 

 

"It's not my feelings, Louis, it's so much more than my feelings. You know I am the last thing I care about in this whole Goddamn house," she replied. "I told you the day that he packed his shit and left out of here that I was going to need you now more than I ever have and you said that you were okay with that."

 

"Mum, I know you need me. I just wish it was deeper than just being a paycheck to you. Do you know what a normal parent would say if their child wanted to go to Harvard? Do you understand how pathetically selfish you sound?" he asked. 

 

"Harvard? Do you really think you're going to be able to get a scholarship somewhere like that? Haven't you thought about what that's going to cost?" she asked, tossing her cigarette out onto the walkway. Louis could feel his hands starting to shake with utter rage. Getting into a good school was everything to him. It was his one-way ticket out of the struggle that he was steeped in almost every day of his life, but especially since Troy had abandoned them. 

 

"Haven't you thought about what it would cost me to get some factory job here and funnel everything I earn into this fucking house? It's falling apart, it's old, it's dirty," he listed off and reached for another cigarette. Smoking was a nasty habit, chain-smoking was worse, but every nerve in his body was rattling with adrenaline, and he didn't know what else to do. "I could get a scholarship, they give stipends, I could send you money from over there. I mean, hell, eventually I'd be able to get a real job, mum. We wouldn't have to worry about anything then. But all you're worried about is right now," he went on. Johannah just sighed at him. 

 

"I have kids to take care of right now, Louis. I have responsibilities right now," she said. He could hear the exhaustion in her voice. They had been fighting so much lately because, yeah, Troy sent less child support when Louis was off at school. Yeah, things were hard on Johannah. But Louis had aspirations, and the pain of them being treated as meaningless was something that there was no emotional answer for. 

 

"I'll get a job on campus and send home money, mum. If that's really all it is. I can study and work at the same time, and I will send you whatever I can," he said, softening his tone too. He didn't want to fight with her. 

 

"That would be helpful," she replied and watched the blue smoke tumble from her son's lips and out into the night air. "You just have to understand this isn't karate. This isn't piano lessons. You can't just give up when things get difficult. Especially after everything I have put into your education and everything I've sacrificed to do it." 

 

"I know what I want, mum. It would be nice of you just to pretend to give a fuck about what's important to me," he told her. "I work my ass off constantly because I have dreams. I work my ass off because I don't want you to be coming home to this for the rest of your life. Saving you a couple hundred pounds isn't worth throwing away everything I want." 

 

"I don't want you to throw it away," she said quickly, defensively. "I don't want to have wasted all this money on sending you to school for you to just walk away, that's not what I want. But I don't want to see you fail. I don't want to see you get out into the world and realize that this is a lot harder than you thought and have to run home. Then we're out the money, and you're out the time, for what? You know how you are. You know how you've always been. You want this, and this, and this, and then suddenly none of it. You can't play that sort of game with the rest of your life." Louis twirled the cigarette in his hand and watched the small tendrils of smoke going in different directions. He didn't know what she could possibly expect him to say.

 

"I don't think anything could be harder than sitting in this damn house, paycheck to paycheck, hardly scraping through the entire year, scrambling to put together a Christmas, or just backpacks for them to go to school. So, maybe I get to the States, and it's utterly fucking miserable. Maybe I start as a barrister and realize I'd rather be anything else in the world. But this is the one chance I have to save the kids from going through what I went through, what you went through," he said, feeling his throat get tighter as his statement went on. "I don't want to see you live like this." Johannah didn't say anything at first, she just reached over and wrapped her hand around Louis' sharp shoulder, squeezing warmly. Just the gentleness of it pricked the backs of Louis' eyes with tears, so he closed them. "I just want you to understand that I have dreams, mum. They're important to me because I want to give you more than this."

 

"I love you," she said and pulled him into a hug. He tossed his cigarette out before putting his arms around her. "I'm sorry for everything I said. I'm just, things are tight enough as it is. I shouldn't take it out on you," she admitted. Louis just nodded, afraid to speak and break this rare moment of clarity. "And… I am proud of you. I just don't want you to waste this." 

 

"I'm not wasting it," he whispered and laid his head on her shoulder. "I love you too." They sat like that for a while before two small voices on the other side of the door raised up in an argument. Louis pulled away and pushed against his eyes with his palms and wiped the few tears he let slip off his face. She got up to go inside without saying anything else. Louis stared out at the street. As much anger he held close, locked away in some deep part of his chest, for everything Johannah put him through, he was sad to go away tomorrow. Everything always seemed to fall apart when it was time for him to go back. He could understand the fear, the frustration. That's what drove him to do something different than the rest of his family had ever done. He didn't dwell on it too much, locking the door behind him as he went inside and walked back to his room to fall into the bottom bunk. It didn't take long for him to fall asleep. 


	3. 03.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, I really hope you're enjoying this & I hope you keep reading because I've put a lot of work into the story and I'm putting a lot of work into creating something I'm proud of. Feel free to follow me on Twitter @2heartsstyles for updates on when I'm posting the next chapter, etc. 
> 
> Thank you!

Harry was never a morning person, and he definitely wasn't a hungover morning person either, but the three-hour drive ahead of him seemed less and less like a chore as he loaded his bags into the car. He knew that being away at school wasn't going to take the burden off his shoulders completely but every time he watched their house shrink behind him in the rearview, he could breathe a little easier.

 

"You don't have to do this," he told Anne quietly, sunglasses perched on his face to block out the morning sun. Truthfully, he wasn't looking forward to trying to balance the pounding in his head with the impending task of focusing on the road. He picked up his last duffle bag and put it into the car. The weight of it left him unsteady on his feet. Anne could tell something was off.

 

"I don't mind one bit, darling," she assured as she closed the trunk on Harry's pearl white Audi. The sound made Harry flinch as his stomach lurched. He excused himself to do a final walkthrough of his room to make sure he had everything, making a quick stop to vomit up the toast he'd tried to have for breakfast. By now, he should have known better than to drink. When he trotted back outside, not even the big glasses could hide his pallor from Anne. She frowned at him, scanning his face.

 

"I'm driving," she said sternly. Every polite bone in Harry's body screamed for him to protest, but he knew there was no way he'd make it. Not this early in the day. He made a show of sighing at her and producing the car keys from the pocket of his black joggers. "What's wrong with you today?" she asked, but it wasn't an accusation.

 

"It's just nerves," he lied as he got into his passengers' seat and tried like Hell to close the door silently. He busied himself with connecting his phone to the Bluetooth as Anne grabbed her purse and locked the front door. When she got in the car, Harry squeezed his eyes shut to brace for the shaking of the car.

 

"It's not nerves, Harry. I wasn't born yesterday," she told him gently. She wanted him to talk, but she wasn't one to ever press him. He didn't deserve that. The car started up with a delicious silence and started to move. Harry didn't know what to say, but he didn't want the next several hours of his life to be anything like the last twelve, so with a breath of courage, he told her.

 

"I'm hungover. I had some scotch when I went to bed last night," he confessed. She glanced over at him as she moved down their long drive, stopping at their gate to make sure the way was clear.

 

"You could have told us if you wanted to celebrate, honey, we could've--"

 

"I wasn't celebrating," he interrupted. Anne didn't know what to say. "You know just as well as I do that I can't take that internship."

 

"Harry, he's just trying to give you what he thinks is best for you," she replied in the same tone she always did.

 

"I don't want to play this father knows best game any more mum, I can't stand him," he said. Her grip on the wheel tightened, the flesh of her fingers turning white against the soft pink manicure on her nails, making them stand out more.

 

"You know he has done nothing but try to help you since you were nine years old. That is why I married him, Harry, because I knew that no one in the world could love you like your father did but that Robin is a good man who would do anything to take care of our family," she told him.

 

"I don't care, I don't like him," he said quickly and reached under the glasses to pinch the bridge of his nose, pushing all the air out of his lungs until they were empty. The next breath he took didn't do anything to clear his head. "I don't want to do this internship. I'm legitimately only going to school for you."

 

"If you don't go to school, then what are you going to do?" she asked.

 

"I want to pursue music, mum. I understand that I'm lucky to be able to go to school and I'm lucky to have this opportunity over in Japan. But he didn't do this to help me and you know it. He just doesn't want me to be happy," he said. "And really, how lucky am I? My best friend is gone, and there aren't enough yachts in the world to sell to get him back."

 

"Robin doesn't mean to discourage you. He wants you to be like your dad and like him. He wants you to be successful," she defended, but her argument was wearing thin. "You can come back from this internship and take over the business; it will be perfect. You won't have to worry about a thing."

 

"I don't want that. Successful doesn't mean happy," he replied. Anne pursed her lips, exasperated. Harry was the most important thing in the world to her. There was never a shred of doubt that she would do anything in the world for him and he just wouldn't listen to her and-- "Why don't you just leave him?" he asked, his voice interrupting her thoughts.

 

"Is that what you want, Harry? Just expect the world to bend to your will because you don't like my husband? He's a good man," she said. Harry couldn't stop himself from smirking and shaking his head.

 

"No, that isn't what I want either. It isn't like that," he insisted.

 

"Then what do you want?" she asked, incredulous. "You're being thick."

 

"Thick is staying with someone who treats your son like some kind of a cross between a show horse and a whipping post," he retorted.

 

"He has never hit you," she corrected him.

 

"No. But I'm not even allowed to close my bedroom door when I'm home. Does he think I'm going to be in there watching hardcore porn or something? Sneaking blokes in past the staff in the middle of the night?" he went on. "You know how he treats me."

 

"It's hard to be like you are in today's world, Harry. Maybe he just--"

 

"And you! He drives you so mad that all you do is drink, mum. Is that healthy? Is that the marital bliss you signed up for?" he asked. Anne sighed, staring out at the road ahead of her for answers.

 

"I can't just tell you what you want to hear and make this all go away," she murmured. "I can tell you that Robin is a good man. He stepped in and took over the business and took care of our family when Des passed. He is doing what he thinks is best for our family and I respect him for that even if you may not understand it. I don't hold the same views that he does on some things and I don't have the same parenting style as he does, but I want you to know that I respect him as a wife." Anne looked over at Harry, but she couldn't read his expression. "I know he's never going to be your dad, love. I know you try so hard," she added, giving Harry a reassuring squeeze on his knee. He finally let himself smile slightly, letting his guard down. Sometimes it was hard to remember that Anne was on his side. He basked in the silence for a while, watching the scenery melt together through the glass. He had never bothered with the music, and the silence felt like the hug his brain needed to stop rattling around his aching head.

 

"I don't think that this is all just going to go away, mum," he murmured back after what felt like ages. With the war on car sickness seemingly won, he took a sip from the water bottle he'd placed in the middle console and cleared his throat before he started talking again. "I guess what I really want is for you to get some help. I'm worried about your drinking. I'm worried about the fighting."

 

"We barely ever fight," she said, dodging the rest of what he was saying because she didn't know how to respond. It was just simpler, sometimes, to act like life was just as perfect as the window display they showed the world.

 

"I heard you just last night," he pointed out. "And what I said was that I am worried about your drinking. I know you're under a lot of pressure, but this isn't a road you deserve to be putting yourself on. If you drank every time you were stressed, you know," he trailed off, the implication that she would never stop hanging heavy between them. "I don't know if he is good for you, mum. It's not up to me to decide, but how it looks from here, it's not great."

 

"Is this really about me?" she asked him, her voice low and soothing, coaxing the truth out of him in a way that nobody else could.

 

"He really has been getting to me over the break. He makes me feel like he doesn't care if I'm happy, which makes me think he doesn't really care if you are either. I just want you to be okay," he answered.

 

"Well, not that it's exactly your business," she began, which was something Harry had found her saying a lot over the years. Not that it's exactly his business because he's too young, because he's her son and not her friend, because her relationship is between the two of them. "But we're starting some couples therapy next week. We figured that since we're going to have nothing to do but put up with one another while the two of you are away, we owe it to each other. We've been together nearly ten years now, haven't we?"

 

"Well, ten years--" he began, but Anne cut him off.

 

"And I will think about that other thing. Think about it, Harry, no promises," she stated very clearly. He got a little smile on his face, feeling like he'd at least gotten through to her somewhat. "That's enough being so nosy anyway," she told him playfully. He hummed as he started scrolling through his phone to find a song.

 

"You think you'd like to stop for lunch?" he asked as he sat up more in his seat and cracked the window, letting in some fresh air. Anne glanced over and smiled at the fact that he seemed to be feeling a little better.

 

"You think you can handle something to eat?" she teased, reaching over to turn up the dial on the stereo a little bit so she could hear the music. Harry rolled his eyes at her, but there was a glimmer of real joy in them. He loved it when they could just be themselves.

 

***

Harry had taken over the driving after they stopped for something to eat and he navigated the tight and confusing campus streets with ease. His sunglasses were now pushed up, holding his hair out of his face because it was just getting to that length again. He pulled into the parking lot of a six-story corporate-looking building with the words 'Executive Dorms' emblazoned across the sign in front of it in silver letters.

 

"Home sweet home," he said quietly as he eased into a parking spot that wasn't too far from the door. He could see Niall's car parked down on the end. Anne stuffed her phone in her purse and tucked away her reading glasses as Harry pushed the gear shift into park. The windows eased up on their own, and the locks popped open. Harry got out and walked around to get Anne's door, but she was already halfway out of the car.

 

"What do you want me to carry?" she asked him, and he just shook his head. Niall came trotting down the front few steps of the building, and Harry pointed over.

 

"That's what he's for," he said of his best friend. Niall had on stark white shorts and a nice black polo, a far cry from Harry's black joggers and his white t-shirt. He hadn't felt well enough to bother with getting dressed that early anyway. Niall came over and greeted Anne warmly, giving her a hug before he moved to embrace Harry. He squeezed him a little tight.

 

"It's good to see you," he told Harry sincerely, looking him over to gauge if he was really okay. The genuine care made Harry smile and breathed life into the bittersweetness of the moment. He was going to miss Anne; he told her that a few times as he and Niall made quick work of getting his bags upstairs and on the drive over for her to catch her train. He hugged her for a long time before she left, reminding her of her word and his love for her. It wasn't like they were going to be apart for too long, but he had always been an unrelenting mama's boy.

 

But, back with Niall in their shared dorm, which was more like a full-sized flat, Harry was sitting on the plush black sectional and watching Niall set his PlayStation back up. Niall's dad was in some kind of corporate finance that Harry didn't really understand and their fathers had always been close. Niall had always looked out for Harry. He was a little older, he had a better situation at home, and truly, he was just a great friend. Harry was relaxed against the cushions, reading the Welcome Home letter for the school when he looked at the back of Niall's brunette head and said:

 

"Feels like home."

 

"Doesn't it?" he agreed.

 


	4. 04.

The incessant buzzing of the alarm on Louis' phone pulled him out of sleep again, and this time, his clumsy fingers reached out to hit the orange Stop on his cracked screen. His phone had tumbled out of his pocket two weeks ago when he was carrying his few bags of clothes up into his dorm. The Snooze button looked exceptionally tempting but he knew that it was already a few minutes after ten; if he was going to look even slightly human that day, he had better get himself up. 

 

Louis groaned a little as he rolled onto his back and rubbed his eyes before he tossed the covers off of him and stretched. He got up and maneuvered the studio-apartment style dorm with ease. He was lucky enough to get a single bed so he didn't have to deal with anyone else being untidy, just himself. But that was okay because he knew where everything was. He made quick work of brushing his teeth, washing his face, and regretting that he didn't leave himself any time to shower between the few things he needed to do that day. 

 

First, most importantly, would be breakfast. At this rate, though, he knew that he was hardly going to have any time to go swipe his meal card for a cup of coffee if he didn't hurry up. He opted to go ahead and pull on the dark blue jeans and black t-shirt he would need to wear to work that night. He had managed to land himself a job at one of the coffee shops dotted across the campus and it was working out alright so far. The weekly pay made things a lot easier. He stuffed his feet into his beat-up maroon slip-on Vans and slung his backpack over his shoulder before heading out the door. 

 

The floor of the hallway was just like carpeted concrete; part of him wondered if that was because it was on the second floor and the concrete was meant to insulate the noise. As he twisted the key in the lock, he thought about it, briefly as he did almost every day. It wasn't like it mattered in the end. He padded down the hall to go down the one flight of stairs that stood between him and fresh air. Once he made it outside, he slipped the pack of cigarettes out of his pocket to have his morning smoke. Of course, this wasn't his typical morning smoke but he figured that was his own fault for agreeing to an 11 AM business course. He didn't even need to take any business courses but he had an elective slot that he needed to fill and the pen landed on Intermediary Business Law and Ethics. 

 

He stuffed one hand into the pocket of his jeans and slowly puffed his cigarette with the other one as he walked first to the dining hall. He timed it just right that morning, flicking his spent cigarette butt into one of the planters by the door before he went inside. He grabbed a coffee and a cereal bar. He was standing at one of the many condiment counters stirring in some sugar and some milk when his phone rang. It was like clockwork already; at half ten on Friday, she would call even though he had only just begun working. His first check had been pretty small but the direct deposit that hit his account that morning wasn't too terrible. 

 

"Hey mum," he said as he answered and tucked his phone between his shoulder and his ear so he could grab his food and go. He took a loud sip of coffee in her ear as he headed back outside. 

 

"Hey darling, have you been awake very long?" Johannah asked him. 

 

"No, I haven't," he said as he tried to tear open his cereal bar with his teeth. He picked the plastic from between them and crumpled it into his pocket before peeling the wrapper away and taking a bite. "I actually have a lecture I'm walking to at the moment, though. Got a shit breakfast at the dining hall. Coffee's pretty good, though. What are you doing?" 

 

"Oh, you know, just getting home from shuffling everybody off to school. I'm about to try to tackle some of the mess in the kitchen from last night but I'm still feeling tired," she replied. Louis sighed a little. 

 

"It must be the cold. You know it's only 14 here?" he said, just making conversation. Johannah laughed a little. 

 

"It's actually still much warmer than that here," she told him. He sucked his teeth. 

 

"Jealous, yeah, rub it in," he said teasingly before another gulp of coffee. "I won't keep you because I do need to try and get to class on time today but my direct deposit came this morning and I'm going to send you half." 

 

"That wasn't really why I called," she defended softly. 

 

"I know, mum. But it's payday. I'm just letting you know that I need to get to class but I do have your money, and I love you very much, yeah?" Louis told her. He could almost hear her smile. 

 

"Alright, babe. I love you too. Try to call and catch up with me when you can. We all miss you," she said, conceding easily when she realized that her son wanted to get off the phone. 

 

"I miss everyone, let them know. And try to text me when the transfer goes through so I know you're alright. I don't have a lot extra, but if something comes up…" he trailed off, not really worried about anyone who might overhear in passing. Sometimes, it was like everyone walking to class was just silent extras, programmed not to make a sound. Especially when it was an early, odd time on a weekend like this. "Anyway, love you," he repeated and made a kissing noise at her. She made it back. 

 

"I'll let you know, Louis. Love you too," she told him once more before the line went empty with a small click. Louis stuffed the rest of his bar into his mouth, which couldn't have been that cute but he needed his hand to make sure the phone call had hung up and to get the device into his back pocket. It wasn't a very far walk to the lecture hall and he was able to settle into a seat on the side with his coffee and get his notes out in time. As the professor was setting up and the last few students were shuffling in, he went ahead and transferred the money to Johannah's account, ticking that off his list of worries for the day.

***

Fridays were slow at the small Starbucks tucked into a corner of one of the university bookstores. It was pleasantly dead when Louis walked behind the counter as he got his apron draped over his shoulders. He gave a small wave to his two coworkers, Leah and Declan, as he passed through to go to the back and put his bag on a hook. He came back up front and was clocking in on the register when he looked over. 

 

"How has it been?" he asked before he plucked the slip that read that it was 5:02 from the printer. He'd be there until nine that night, so pretty easy. 

 

"Dead," Leah said, glancing up from her phone to laugh a little bit. One of her dyed-auburn curls had managed to escape her visor and was laying right across her brown eye and she puffed some air to get it away. Declan laughed at her and looked out around the bookstore. 

 

"I don't understand how they can even afford to pay us. We shouldn't be open on Fridays," Declan said but he wasn't really complaining. Louis shrugged as he started on making himself a cup of tea. 

 

"I actually don't mind it," he admitted. "Gives me time to think, at least," he murmured. 

 

"Oh, about your little boyfriend?" Leah asked and Louis just shot her a look. Declan looked between them. He was taller than Louis, a little heavier, blond, a light smattering of freckles on his cheeks. Undeniably Irish by appearance but the Australian accent he had betrayed him the moment he opened his mouth. 

 

"Bitch, oh my God, what is she talking about?" he asked Louis, whose cheeks were absolutely pinking up even though he didn't want them to. He dropped his tea bag into the disposal and picked up the mug with both hands, sipping it innocently as he looked between them, making them wait. He couldn't keep in his laugh, though. 

 

"It's legitimately nothing. I texted her about this absolute… fucking model that I saw in Biz-Law, today. I've literally never spoken to him in my entire life. I think he's probably straight… and he always seems so overdressed. Trousers, shirt tucked in, I don't get it but I'm fucking /here/ for it," Louis explained. Both of them were looking at him in anticipation for more, but he truly didn't have any more to give. "The professor seems completely up his ass, though. I think his name is Harry?" 

 

"Harry Styles?" Declan asked and that made Louis cut him a look this time. 

 

"Do you know him?" he asked. 

 

"No, not really. But I guess his dad is like a millionaire or something, he's stupidly fucking rich and really popular. I can't believe that you've spent two weeks here and haven't heard anything about him," his friend replied. Leah put her phone away now that she was done. She reached back to pick up her ice water and took a sip. 

 

"People talk about him all the time like he's some kind of a celebrity around here. I guess his dad was a big deal here. People can't shut up about him. I think he's a junior," she said. Leah was in her second year of a childhood education degree; Declan and Louis were both in their first year. Louis was intrigued right away, of course, because to say that Harry was fit was the understatement of the century. 

 

Over the next four hours, between customers, the two of them tried to fill him in about this mystery boy but there wasn't much that they knew because they didn't run in the same circles as he did. The conversation eventually lulled and Louis forgot about him; he was just some guy. There would be hundreds of those at whatever university he ended up at. As the guys were finishing up all of the cleaning and re-stocking for the night, Leah was trying to use her phone camera as a mirror to clean up some of the shimmering gold shadow on the dark skin of her lids. 

 

"Either of you feel like drinks?" she asked. She was the manager on duty, so she waited for each of them to get their bags so she could finish shutting the store down. "I'll be done in a few minutes, there's no count tonight," she added. 

 

"I don't think I can, I wanted to go back and try to work on my essay," Louis said. He always just said essay, even though it was a massive paper that he was writing for a scholarship opportunity. Regardless of what it was for, his friends were really understanding. Briefly, back at his dorm, he tried to do a little bit of internet sleuthing and find Harry on Instagram but he wasn't able to, so he did end up receding into his studies for the rest of the night. In the end, that wasn't really so bad.


	5. 05.

Harry was sitting on the couch, leaned slightly forward to hold his guitar in place on his lap so he could scribble a few words on the notebook next to him. Sometimes he preferred silence but the sound of Niall's video game on the television in front of them was a little bit of a welcome nuisance. He leaned back and let his fingers wander over the strings as he hummed the words he'd just written. 

 

"Move the capo," Niall murmured without looking over. He was in his pajamas, leaned forward with his elbows on his knees and the controller in his hands. He wasn't winning the race he was in, but he wasn't losing either. 

 

"What?" Harry asked he had been so wrapped up in watching his fingers that he hadn't heard. 

 

"Pitch seems too high for the way you're humming it," he said and glanced over. "If you're going to sing it that way, I mean." Harry nodded and scooted the capo along the neck a little but then just took it off. He didn't think his falsetto fit the tone of what he was writing. 

 

"What would I do without you, Niall?" he asked with a little bit of a laugh. 

 

"Probably more homework," he replied and they both laughed a little. Harry sighed and went back to dancing his fingers along the guitar, looking for just the right sound. 

 

"Don't remind me. Professor Miller just gave us a project to do, which is obviously fine, but we got randomly paired for it. What if he's an asshole? What if he's lazy? It's too much," he complained. 

 

"Then I guess he is, doesn't mean you can't just do your best. You know that the professor is going to know if he doesn't contribute or whatever. I wouldn't really worry about it," Niall reasoned. Harry nodded a little, reached over to write out a few chords next to the words on the page. 

 

"Guess you're right," he conceded. Harry was sitting there thinking, the statement was bubbling up through his chest and there wasn't much he could do to stop it coming out of his mouth. It was uncomfortable, like choking up glass almost. It would be better if he just got it out but it was still so hard sometimes. "He's actually really cute. His name is Louis," he murmured. Niall didn't even blink. He knew Harry was gay. He was one of the few people in the world that knew, might ever know, and he took supporting Harry very seriously. His face spread into a smile at just the thought that Harry was loosening up enough to say so. Being home for the summer always shut him down so much. 

 

"Well, there you go," Niall insisted. "You will at least have something to look at if he's an idiot, right? Do you think he's gay?" Harry almost laughed. 

 

"He's definitely gay," he said quickly. "He's like…" he trailed off and just smiled a little bit. "It's stupid but he's so flamboyant that it actually makes my heart beat fast. I couldn't… imagine living like that… and just being okay. And he's fucking fit." 

 

"You know one day… you know that you can do that, don't you? That you're not going to have to worry about this shit forever, Harry?" Niall murmured as he slid into second place on the scoreboard that popped up. "Not too bad," he said and gestured towards the television, which made Harry crack a smile. 

 

"I don't know, man. I hope so," was all he could say. It just didn't feel like it would ever be real again. Losing his father made something disappear inside of him. There was a closed-off room in the hallway of his mind where all his confidence seemed to live and Des had unfortunately taken the key when he left. Everything Harry had been through over the past four years just made him feel so weak, deflated… broken. 

 

"Since he's gay, maybe you could tell him. If you're sure he is, maybe you could let him know you think he's cute? Maybe not right at the start of your project but you're going to have some time to get to know him a little bit. What if you hit it off?" Niall suggested. Harry just looked over, a numb expression on his face as his brain cycled through all of the painful possibilities if he ever opened his mouth. 

 

"If I get caught dating someone, you know he's going to try to suspend my trust fund. Tuition, car, just... Oop," he said and made a waving motion with his hand. "I have to finish school for my mum." 

 

"I'm just saying that a date or two, or just someone to talk to that understands what you're going through might be really good for you. And it's been… what? Two years since you got laid? Not sustainable, Harold, " he joked. Niall was being serious in his support but this was a tough talk for Harry. A sore spot on his heart that Niall couldn't answer. So he always tried to lighten things up with a bit of humor. 

 

"Yeah but… I don't know. He's so obvious. That means he's probably out and nobody wants to date someone in the closet because we're exhausting. People like me are fucking exhausting," Harry said and moved to lean his guitar against the side of the couch so he could face Niall. Niall angled himself towards Harry too. 

 

"I don't think that's why you're exhausting," Niall teased. That made Harry laugh too. 

 

"I just can't ever say like… hey I like you, but my mum's husband is a massive dickhead and I could lose absolutely everything if we date so there's absolutely nothing we can do with this information other than both sit here and be miserable," he insisted and pushed his hair back before he started to nervously chew on the edge of his guitar pick. "Maybe if I just… wait him out... Or, I don't know. Die alone. Then it's fine." Harry knew that he was being dramatic but that's really how it felt sometimes. 

 

"You're not going to die alone. You'll always have me. And your mum. And Gemma," Niall pointed out. That made Harry smile even more than anything else had. 

 

"You know she told me that she's seeing a therapist on her own?" he told Niall. 

 

"Good for her. I don't think she's really happy. It's none of my business but…" he trailed off and Harry nodded, dropping the slightly dented piece of plastic on the edge of the coffee table. 

 

"Exactly," he agreed, then played with his bottom lip a little bit. "You want to roll us a blunt before bed?" he asked. Niall studied him for just a second before he nodded. 

 

"Fuck yeah. Go get us some water," Niall told him before reaching for the box stashed under the edge of the couch.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey. Sorry for being slow to update for everyone who is enjoying this. I'm going to be more diligent about working on it now that things are picking up for me. The story is broken up into acts, each consisting of seven chapters. This first act is all about setting the stage for everything so I'm sorry if any of these seem like filler. ily. Stream Fine Line, Walls, and PALLOM.


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